


Like A Flowering Tree, The World is Blooming

by whatthedubbs



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Believe it or not this isn't explicit, Ethari has inventive means of dissuading this behavior, Ethari has one rule in his house, Light Bondage, M/M, Praise Kink, Rule Breaking, Runaan is a very pretty elf and Ethari does not let him forget it, Runaan is not very good at obeying this rule, Runaan just wants to give his husband nice things, and it is 'no life-or-death situations outside of work'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthedubbs/pseuds/whatthedubbs
Summary: Ethari's developed an ingenious method to dissuade his husband from putting his life in danger outside of his job:Corner him and tell him he's pretty.
Relationships: Runaan/Ethari (The Dragon Prince), Runaan/Tinker | Necklace Elf (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 268





	Like A Flowering Tree, The World is Blooming

Ethari ties off the final knot and looks down at his beautiful husband sprawled out on their bed, wrists crossed behind his head and bound by soft cord. Runaan meets his eyes and flushes prettily across the bridge of his nose.

It’s time to put his plan into action.

“You have beautiful horns, you know,” he begins, reaching out to trace the shape of them with a gentle hand. He grins internally when Runaan shifts uneasily over the sheets, his blush deepening. “The sheen on them is so lovely in the moonlight; I can tell you take good care of them.” 

His husband turns his head aside to hide his embarrassment at the praise, but Ethari is ready for him, catching the curve of his chin with delicate fingers before he can escape. Runaan knows what he’s done. He knows he won’t escape the consequences.

Ethari’s thumb brushes lightly over the full curve of Runaan’s lower lip. “These too. Have I told you how often I caught myself staring at your mouth when we first met?” He teases at the seam of them for a moment just to feel the flex of Runaan’s jaw under his palm. He can feel the heat of his heart’s blush through the skin of his cheeks; see the way his body quickens at his words. Six feet of well-muscled elf assassin squirms on the bed beneath him; resolve falling to pieces already in the face of Ethari’s determined assault.

Ethari chuckles and a visible shiver runs up his husband’s spine at the sound.

“Oh, and your _eyes_ , my heart,” he whispers into Runaan’s ear, bending low over him as if imparting a secret. “As green as the needles of the grove itself in high summer; and so much more lovely.” He presses a kiss to the tip of Runaan’s nose. “That first time you looked at me, I thought I’d forgotten how to breathe, they were so stunning.”

Those same eyes are wide and brilliant and stunned as Ethari’s free hand trails down the column of Runaan’s neck to sweep along the line of his broad shoulders.

“And these,” Ethari continues, squeezing gently and the taught muscle under his hand. “Such strong shoulders, my heart. Such a good perch for little elflets, hmm?” 

(How many times has their niece scaled his husband like a favorite tree to sit upon them?)

“And such a kind heart you have, to let them guide you wherever they wish.” His hand slides down the gentle swell of Runaan’s pectoral to rest above the heart in question. “You know, everyone kept trying to tell me that your heart was cold and closed-off?” He chuckles softly. “But you were so sweet and flustered whenever we talked, my heart,” Runaan squirms under his hands, “You wanted everyone to be safe and happy; but you forgot to include yourself.”

He moves his hand in a sweeping caress down his husband’s side so he has space to press tender kisses over his heart (and the flush that is now making its way steadily across pale flesh). He teases a thumb into the ridges between his abdominals just to listen to the sound Runaan makes when he does so. His husband has been reduced from brooding assassin to flustered mess in a matter of minutes.

He leans back after a moment to fix his husband with his eyes once more. “I see you, my heart,” he laughs fondly. “Still trying to show off for me even after all these years, hmmm?” He reaches out to the bedside table and plucks a thumb-sized sapphire from the bowl he keeps there to empty his pockets into every night. “How many star-hornets did Renali say it was again? Twelve?”

Runaan’s squirming _intensifies_.

“Fifteen,” he admits finally.

“And how many times were you stung?”

“Seven.”

“Ah,” he leans closer, placing the gem gently in the dip of Runaan’s navel. His husband sucks in a breath at the touch of the cool stone.

“And which of us, my heart, is allergic to their venom?”

His husband makes a vaguely mortified sound and mumbles: “Me.”

He taps on the stone “And what is our rule about life-or-death situations outside of your assignments?”

Runaan is flushing an even deeper red (how unfortunate that his navel happens to be one of his erogenous zones). “N- Not to get into them.”

“Quite right.” His fingers continue to play with the stone. “Do you think you’ve been following this rule lately?”

Runaan gasps under his hands. “N- No, Ethari.”

Ethari tuts at him. “There are _consequences_ for not looking after yourself, Runaan. Do you know what I think?”

His husband shakes his head, his eyes wide (but not afraid. Never afraid. Ethari loves him far too much to ever hurt him like that). Even so- “Let me hear your lovely voice, my heart.”

“No Ethari, What are you thinking?”

He smiles and traces a rune over the sapphire with the tip of his finger. “I think…” he muses, sliding the stone around the hollow of his husband’s navel and watching the clench of the muscle around it. “That maybe you need something…” a twitch of a finger, and the spell takes hold, fixing the stone in place and cooling it just enough to tease. “To remind you that you are already my heart,” he finishes with a soft laugh. Runaan jolts and squirms at the cool sensation, but Ethari’s spell holds the stone in its place. 

He bends at the waist to press his lips to the trapped gemstone and enjoys the way the muscle around it flutters. “You are more valuable than any other treasure you could find to give me, my heart.” He murmurs. “Perhaps a week with this passenger will remind you not to give me things to tease you with, hmmm?”

—

His niece takes one look at him when she stops by on her way home from school and bursts out laughing. 

“He got you good, huh uncle Runaan,” she giggles, patting him on the arm. “How long?”

Runaan grumbles and looks away. “A week.”

“Oooh. Darn. I bet Callisto a cookie you’d get a month for that.”

Runaan sighs because of _course his co-workers are making bets about him again_. “Do you need help using the oven?”

His niece beams up at him like the innocent child she very definitely isn’t. “Thanks uncle Runaan!” She tugs on his hand to get him to his feet (and hopefully _doesn’t_ notice the way his ears pink slightly as the stupid stone shifts against his skin). “Can I see it afterwards? Daddy said you found a _huge_ one!”

Truly his husband is both beautiful and devious.

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have this from my scraps document while I'm working on the next chapter of Callum's Sexuality Crisis (TM).


End file.
